


Shatter

by dovingbird



Series: One Simple Change [2]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hannah breaks her relationship with Phil off, Elise Testone finds herself getting in the way all in the name of helping him. Part of my "One Simple Change" series, where each story was written week-to-week as the S11 episodes premiered. AU in that Hannah and Phil broke up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shatter

Breaking glass has an incredibly distinctive sound. It has this crisp, clean shattering that is universally known to the point where as soon as you hear it, your first impulse is to draw out a long "Oooooooh..."  
  
In a mansion as echoey as this one, it shouldn't be any surprise that the second there was broken glass, everybody knew.  
  
Everybody.  
  
 **CRASH!**  
  
Elise jolted out of a dead sleep, sitting stick straight and pulling her comforter to her neck. It took a long moment for her to figure out exactly what that sound was. By the time she thought _Oh, glass,_ doors were already slamming open all around her.  
  
"What in the world-" Hollie.  
  
"What's going on-" Colton.  
  
"I swear to God, if we're getting robbed-" Jessica.  
  
She ripped the sheets off of her and stumbled to turn on her lamp, eyes huge. What the hell was going on? Was it even possible to get robbed in a place like this? No, if that was true, she was packing her bags tonight and going all the damn way back home. Hell to the record contract. She threw on her bathrobe and raced out of her bedroom.  
  
The voices were coming from the kitchen. She followed them restlessly, sealing her bathrobe shut, because God knows that if you've got a robber banging down your door you really ought to worry about your personal appearance first and everything else last.  
  
And then...silence. A really long, awkward silence.  
  
Elise wondered faintly in her exhausted mind if the robber was, like, a llama, or something equally as ridiculous to make everyone shut up like that. She twisted around the corner, eyes wide. And then she saw. Then she understood.  
  
Mr. Phillip Phillips was sitting on the floor against the kitchen island, fingers knotted in his hair and a shattered water pitcher far across the room from him.  
  
When they heard her approach, five pairs of eyes turned and stared at her. She could feel the almost palpable sense of relief, like they were waiting for her. She furrowed her eyebrows. "What's up?"  
  
More silence.  
  
Eventually Colton elected to speak. "Yeah, dude, you okay?"  
  
Phil was quiet. And then he slowly inhaled, loud and audible, and nodded. His eyes stayed shut. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. The thing slipped. I feel really embarrassed right now."  
  
Nervous laughter flew through the air, joined by a flurry of activity. "Lemme find a broom." "Thank God it was empty." "Think they're gonna make us pay for the wall scuff?"  
  
As those five people all went their separate ways, looking for brooms, examining the wall, grabbing a midnight snack, Elise stayed where she was and kept her eyes level. She watched him. He stayed absolutely still like a statue, eyes shut, mouth a thin line, fingers digging into his hair. His knuckles were turning white. That couldn't be healthy.  
  
She padded across the floor in her stocking feet and hitched her robe a little higher up her shoulder. It was funny. She could meet a robber with her shoulders and neck bare, but now that it was just Phillip that she was coming to meet, she felt shy. She kept herself covered up, feeling like she was donning a hijab or something, and swallowed.  
  
"Slipped, huh?" she murmured. When he didn't respond, she knelt down in front of him and tilted her head to the side. "Wanna tell me how that happened?"  
  
He snorted. "Not particularly." His drawl was always easy, completely unaffected, but tonight there was something rigid about it. It was as sharp as the glass he'd scattered across the floor. No, there wasn't any doubt in her mind anymore. That hadn't been an accident, no sirree.  
  
"Mmm." She scooted around and sat against the island with him, thumping her head back against it. She stared up at the ceiling. "That's a shame."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Turns out I'm really fucking persistent when I get woken up at 4am."  
  
He clicked his tongue, a quiet 'tch,' and dropped his hands into his lap. "I could really do without your persistence."  
  
"Yeah, I bet you could, but that's not gonna help either of us, is it?" She fiddled with her bathrobe sash absently. "'Cuz, y'see, I'm not gonna be able to go to sleep when I'm up all night worrying about you, and you're just gonna end up sitting here stewing."  
  
"Wasn't planning on it, actually." He sighed. "Thought about going out."  
  
"Going out?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Like, to a bar?"  
  
"Yeah, thought about it."  
  
"You really think they're gonna let you do that?"  
  
"Fuck contracts, man. I don't have time for that shit tonight."  
  
She stared at him, eyes wide, before glancing around the kitchen. Half the others had already dispersed. Hollie was the one who elected to sweep up the glass, and Skylar was hanging around presumably to keep her company, but neither seemed like they were paying any attention to Elise or Phil. She looked back at him again. "Phil, talk to me."  
  
"..." He tugged his cell phone out of his shirt pocket, flipped it open, and began scrolling through text messages. "Don't got anything to say," he murmured, his voice slow and methodical as always. "But maybe this'll answer it." He held the phone out to her. She took it.  
  
It took her a moment to realize exactly what she was looking at, the product of a sleep-fuzzed brain, but when it dawned on her she felt her eyes widen.  
  
 _I can't do this anymore._  
  
"What is this?"  
  
"Scroll down."  
  
She did. The name on the text was Hannah. "Oh, Jesus..."  
  
"There's more. Go left."  
  
She did.  
  
 _You know exactly what I'm talking about._  
  
 _You're living there with four girls right now. I know what's going on._  
  
 _Stop it. This isn't easy for me either._  
  
 _I'm blocking you._  
  
"Oh my God."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The phone was shaking in her hand. She couldn't even explain why. It just was. There was this weird sinking sensation in her abdomen and she felt like she was about to drop this thing.  
  
When she looked at him this time, his stance made so much more sense. It wasn't a person hiding from his own embarrassment. It was a man crippled by his pain.  
  
"When did this happen?"  
  
He cocked his head to the side and studied the clock on the wall. "'Bout...ten minutes ago? She ain't been too chatty since that last one."  
  
"How the hell could she block your number this late?"  
  
"Hell if I know why she's even up. They're two hours ahead of us here."  
  
Elise sighed and clicked the phone shut. "Oh, Phil..."  
  
"Don't worry about it. I'll be fine. Just gonna go out and get me a little tequila and-"  
  
"You're not doing that," she murmured.  
  
"Excuse me?" He looked at her with a frown. "Let's think about this for a second. The woman I love just broke up with me. The woman I've dated for over three years now. The woman I want to spend the rest of my life with." He scowled. "And you don't think I deserve a little shot or two?"  
  
She bit her bottom lip before she leaned over and touched his arm. He flinched, but didn't look away. "I don't think it's worth blowing your contract over if you take it too far."  
  
"I'ma say this just one time, Elise," he muttered, his tone mutating until it was a series of frustrated growls. "Fuck. That. Contract."  
  
Her heart stopped. It did. It stopped right there in the center of her chest. Her eyes grew wide and she tried to remember how to breathe. "...you don't mean that."  
  
"I do." He held her gaze solidly, not a lick of hesitation in it. "If I don't have her, it ain't worth it. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm lying."  
  
He wasn't. There was something so chilling in the fact that he wasn't, that he meant every single word he said, and she felt herself shy back away from it, as if it would infect her too. "Phil..."  
  
"I'm going out." He stood up, slid the cell phone from her hand, and shoved his hands into his baggy jean pockets. "You coming?"  
  
Her heart kicked up again. She didn't want to think about why. "I-I'm not even dressed," she said with a quiet, nervous laugh. "It's like four in the morning."  
  
"So? There's gotta be something open."  
  
"You've lost your mind." She took his hand and pulled herself to her feet regardless.  
  
He turned and glared at her, eyebrows low and eyes smoldering in anger. "I don't give a damn if you think I lost my mind or not. There's no way in hell I'm spending tonight alone."  
  
"You don't have to! I'm here!"  
  
Phil recoiled back a step, apparently as surprised by her outburst as she was. He paused. He glanced around, but Hollie and Skylar had disappeared. When he met her eyes again, he was back to being the neutral, solid, stable-looking man he had been ever since Heejun left the house. There was no mirth left. It was just blankness. Now she couldn't help but just how long he'd been having these problems with Hannah. How much had she contributed to that? "I'm not doing this thing sober."  
  
"Yeah, you are." She reached out and grabbed his wrist. "C'mon."  
  
He stumbled behind her relatively amiably for a heartbroken man. "Where're we going?"  
  
"Out by the pool."  
  
"Why?"  
  
She hadn't gotten that far in her decision-making yet. She just knew it was a good place to be alone. All the windows of the bedrooms faced the other side of the house. She had a distinct feeling that this was crucial, and for whatever reason it gripped her with little shivers all over again. "Just c'mon."  
  
They made their way through the mansion in silence. It was long going. This place was bigger than her damn hometown, and the day she got used to it was the day that Hell froze over. Somehow she had a feeling that Phil felt the same. She glanced over her shoulder at him. They were cut from the same cloth. The only difference was that he was still a kid.  
  
That stung in the weirdest way.  
  
She opened the patio door and tugged him outside before going to shut it again. She hesitated. She felt a heavy weight draping itself around her, like a feather boa covered in boulders, and let her shoulders sag under the density of it all. The door clicked shut and she glanced over her shoulder.  
  
Phil had his flip-flops sitting beside him and was in the middle of hiking up his jean legs. He had the calves of someone who ran, just toned enough to be distracting.  
  
She decided the moon reflecting off the water was a little better to look at.  
  
The surface was disturbed when Phil plunged his legs into the water. "Well?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"This was your idea. C'mere."  
  
She obeyed. She sat beside him and tucked her bathrobe around her knees. When her feet joined his in the water, her ankle bracelet bobbed loosely just below her calf.  
  
As hard as it was to believe, birds were already twittering quietly, like they owned the damn place even at four in the morning. It was ridiculous...but it was nice. It was a just a reminder that life still went on, even in the midst of heartbreak and confusion and failed comforting.  
  
"...I'm sorry."  
  
He nodded. "Yeah. Me too."  
  
"I'm serious. I've been there. It sucks."  
  
They were silent again, just listening to the birds chirping and the breeze blowing by. He twitched his leg and sent a few droplets flying through the air. "I wanna marry her, Elise."  
  
"I know you do, sweetheart."  
  
"I just don't get why she's doing this."  
  
She tugged a leg to her chest and wrapped her arm around it, eyeing him as she pressed her chin against her kneecap. "Tell me what happened."  
  
"I mean, she's been like this for weeks now, and I was getting tired of it, you know? Like, yeah, I'm living with some girls, but I'm living with some guys too. Big deal. I feel the same about all of them. They're all my competition. They're all awesome musicians. That don't mean I wanna be with any of them."  
  
Elise nodded helpfully as he went on. This was her job. She had to listen to this. She had to listen and pretend that she didn't feel as sick as a dog.  
  
"So I told her she needs to stop being so self-conscious and get over it. I chose her. I love her. She's supposed to know that."  
  
The urge to facepalm was overwhelming. She tightened her hands into fists and settled for a wince.  
  
"Anyway, she didn't take kindly to that."  
  
"I'm not surprised."  
  
He frowned. "Why?"  
  
"Phil, I..." She shook her head with a quiet laugh. "She's a girl."  
  
"I know that!"  
  
"Not well enough, apparently. Look, that means she thinks differently from you. She needs, like...reassurance and stuff, okay? You're supposed to remind her that you love her."  
  
"I do!" He turned his scowl to the water, but it just made him look like a pouting child. "I sing to her, I send her stuff, I make her happy..."  
  
"But that's not enough."  
  
"Grrrrmph." He dragged a hand through his hair. "Why do women gotta be so damn high-maintenance?"  
  
"Okay, first of all, it's not high-maintenance. It's the basis of respect in a relationship. Second of all, it's just how we are. And if you really love her, you need to be ready to give her what she needs."  
  
He was silent again, but the wrinkles on his forehead told her that he was thinking. She let him. She slipped her foot back into the water and tucked her hands under her thighs. He wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, bless his heart, but he tried, and he wasn't an idiot either. He'd figure it out when he wanted to.  
  
"She won't talk to me," he grumbled. "She blocked me."  
  
"So try someone else tomorrow that can talk to her. Give them an apology to give her or something."  
  
He glanced toward her. "What should it say?"  
  
"The hell if I know!" Elise laughed and shoved him. "These are supposed to be your words, not mine!"  
  
He could try to scowl all he wanted, but the little push drew a smile to his lips and a quiet chuckle to boot. "All right, all right, fine, damn."  
  
Their chuckles faded into silence again. Elise hesitated for a few moments longer before she scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He tensed for only a moment before tucking his arm around her with a quiet sigh. "It's gonna be okay."  
  
"But what if it isn't?"  
  
Elise gave him a quick hug around the waist. "You gotta believe that it is." She shrugged. "Otherwise it'll always be doomed to fail."  
  
"Guess you're right."  
  
"Duh." She grinned.  
  
"I just..."  
  
"What?"  
  
He hesitated. When he spoke again, his voice was rougher, less contained. "I just wonder sometimes if she'd better off without me anyway."  
  
She twisted her neck and met his eyes in an instant. "What?!"  
  
"Hell, maybe she'd be happier with someone who already knew all that stuff and wouldn't be an ass like me."  
  
"Nonono, Phil, that's not-"  
  
"And, y'know, maybe I'd be happier on my own or whatever! Maybe that's how I'm supposed to be."  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
Silence. She realized faintly that she was shaking.  
  
"Just stop it. Please. I can't listen to you say that stuff."  
  
His voice dropped to a pained whisper when he looked down at her. "Even if it's true?"  
  
Exhaustion made her spontaneous. She reached up, pulled his head toward her, and pressed a desperate kiss to his cheek. "Don't," she growled, turning his head so he met her eyes again. "you dare say that. You are not an ass any more than anyone else is. You're Phil Phillips and you're awesome and you kick ass and the day you don't deserve a second chance is the day pigs fly."  
  
He didn't look away. In fact, he absorbed every damn word she said right down to the core of his heart. She could see it in his eyes. "...thanks."  
  
"You're welcome," she murmured. She leaned to give him one more friendly cheek-kiss, something affectionate, something for him to remember when he felt absolutely and completely unloveable later tonight in his bed, but somewhere along the way it went horribly wrong. She didn't know if it was her or him that tilted their head just so, but suddenly she wasn't kissing his cheek. She was kissing his lips.  
  
It was just a peck, just a bare touch, but it dug its claws into her and sucked the breath right out of her lungs. She gasped. He jerked back an inch. And then, eyelids drooping languidly, he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and leaned in again.  
  
It was a battle. It was a battle, and she didn't have a clue who was winning. Was it her with her arms draping around his neck or him with his fingers dragging down her spine? Flames were ripping through her body and thrashing skyward. She was drowning and she wasn't even anywhere near the damn water anymore, was she?  
  
Phil eased her down and pressed her against the prickly pool border. The second that his body fit intimately against hers, every angle and every curve meeting like a puzzle, she didn't want to let him go. She _wouldn't_. She locked her knees against his hips and pulled him in again with a groan.  
  
Cold air singed her overheated skin as he yanked the bathrobe from her shoulder and broke away to tease her collarbone with his tongue darting out to have a taste. "Jesus!" she hissed, piercing her nails through his t-shirt, right into those sharp jumping angel bones of his.  
  
And then the roaring behind her ears began to quiet. She paused. Suddenly she was aware of his panting and the fact that he'd frozen as stock still as a statue.  
  
She met his eyes, and his own grew wide.  
  
He jerked away from her like a puppet. "Holy shit," he groaned, pressing his fist to his mouth. He stared at her for a long moment of horror before he stumbled to his feet and threw himself at the mansion.  
  
The door slammed shut. He'd left her. He'd left her cold and shivering and seared senseless on the ground.  
  
What a fucking bastard.  
  
 _No,_ she thought, eyes falling shut. _No, it's you who fucked this up. Nice job, babe._  
  
He was heartbroken. Absolutely heartbroken. She'd known that going into this, and she'd still let herself fly without a care in the world. She curled into a ball and sighed heavily, pressing her forehead against her knees. She deserved the sharp pain in her back that the movement gave her. She deserved every bit of it.  
  
Now that she felt like a cheap whore, she figured she had nothing better to do than to take a long walk of shame back to her bedroom and proceed to hate herself for the next three hours. It wasn't even 5am yet. Jesus Christ. Why in the world was she so good at ruining lives?  
  
She shut her bedroom door quietly behind her and leaned back against it. The blissfulness of her exhaustion meant that she had long moments to figure out exactly how she felt without just devolving into hysteria. She took quiet inventory of herself. Did she need to cry? No, not yet. Would she? Yes, very soon.  
  
She held her head in her hands with an agonized sigh. Jesus. She couldn't show her face tomorrow. She had to pretend to be sick. She had to run away. She had to go home. She had to...  
  
No.  
  
No, that was the dumbest idea she'd ever had. She'd be a laughingstock if she dropped out of the running just because of this.  
  
So what was she supposed to do, then? Pretend it never happened? Watch Phil get back with his little Hannah tomorrow because of her own advice and act like she was happy for him?  
  
Pretend this whole fucking act she'd been carrying on for weeks was how she really felt?  
  
No, no, that was bullshit, and she wouldn't do it. She couldn't do it. She had to go to him tomorrow first thing and apologize. Hell, she could probably go right now.  
  
She touched her lips. They were swollen.  
  
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, when she looked less thoroughly kissed and felt less completely agonized.  
  
Elise walked toward her bed. She sat down. She stared at the wall and listened to three long minutes pass before she even considered sleeping again. She laid down. She closed her eyes.  
  
They flew open when she heard the knock at her door.  
  
A thousand apologies were already on her lips for whoever she'd woken up by the time she reached the door, her bathrobe abandoned on the floor and nearly tripping her. "Hey," she began the second she turned the doorknob. "I'm so sorry that I-"  
  
It was him.  
  
Damn. She wasn't the only one who looked thoroughly kissed.  
  
She wanted to be strong. She really did. But she gave into temptation and let her eyes drift over his face. His parted lips were full and red. His cheeks were flushed. But it was his eyes that grabbed her. They were watery and they were bloodshot and they were _desperate._  
  
For the second time that night, she forgot how to breathe.  
  
"You said...you said I deserved second chances."  
  
Her heart contorted.

"...is it too late to get one?"  
  
"I..." She sucked at words. She really sucked at them. She stepped back and ducked her head, biting her bottom lip. She watched his damp feet pad across her carpet and she shut the door behind him to engulf them in darkness.  
  
He reached out. He touched her wrist.  
  
She melted.


End file.
